


Chilled Wine and Cold Showers

by AquaFontem



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Established Sherlolly, F/M, Pointless Summer Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-03
Updated: 2015-07-03
Packaged: 2018-04-07 11:32:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4261767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AquaFontem/pseuds/AquaFontem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The hottest day of the year so far brings highs of 35 degrees. Molly could not say that she was enjoying it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chilled Wine and Cold Showers

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea what this is. I think the sun is messing with my head.

Molly did not cope well with heat. 

Her father used to have to select milder climates for their holidays when she was a child, because a single degree over 30 would imprison her indoors for the duration of their trip. 

Initially, living in London had not posed too much of a problem, but the temperature had worsened over the past few years, and Molly became more and more thankful that she had chosen a career that necessitated air conditioning. 

This year, it was so hot outside that leaving the refreshing coolness of Bart’s was something of a chore, especially when the journey home was conducted on the Tube, which was not well-equipped for a heat wave. 

Molly sat on the Jubilee Line, in a relatively empty carriage, with the cooler on the seat beside her. It was strange travelling to Baker Street aware that, for once, the blue container was not carrying body parts, but was instead the host of several bottles of white wine. 

She could hear them clinking as she wrapped her hand around the handle, and rose from her seat to exit the train. 

Sweat beaded at her temples, and down the back of her neck as she made the short walk from the station to 221B in considerable discomfort. Sherlock had texted her to inform her that he was still on a case, so her only plan for the evening was to open one of the bottles of wine, and take a very cold, preferably infinite shower. 

She started stripping as soon as she reached the door of their flat, refraining from removing any clothing until after she had closed the front door and climbed the stairs for fear of giving Mrs Hudson quite a shock. 

Still, by the time she reached the kitchen cupboard and extracted a glass, she was in only her underwear, and already she sighed with relief at the loss of the layers against her overheated skin. 

For once, the spray of cold water that 221B’s old plumbing doused her with when she turned on the shower was not unwelcome, and she fiddled with the taps until the almost freezing temperature was maintained. 

She continued with her normal nightly routine: washing away the smell of death, applying the more pleasant scent of lavender, before cleaning and untangling the knots in her hair.

The wine turned out to be a pleasing addition to the process, as if it would ensure that the chill spread to the inside of her body, while the water cooled her skin. 

Time melted away with the heat, and there was no telling how long she had been in the shower when the shower curtain rustled, and she felt the warmth of fingers ghosting over the small of her back. 

She leaned into the sensation of his touch, stepping back until she felt his bare torso against her back, and his arms encircle her waist. 

‘Barely a five,’ Sherlock murmured against her neck, nudging his nose against the spot below her ear, where he said her scent was strongest. She thwarted his efforts to catalogue the components of her perfume when she turned in his embrace, and pressed her lips hungrily to his. 

The water continued to fall, now forgotten, as Sherlock had somehow lured her from under the spray with his pillowy lips and wandering hands. 

Still, the frigidity of the water was exchanged for the coolness of the shower tiles when he pressed her against them, with such enthusiasm that she forgave him for the furnace-like heat that seemed to be emanating off his person. 

‘Did you know it’s 35 degrees out?’ She told him breathily, when his attention shifted further down from her mouth. 

‘You want to talk about the weather?’ He replied, slightly affronted. ‘Now?’ She grinned in response, and kissed away his scowl, wondering if he had yet deduced just how cold the water was. 

Her back slid over the tiles as she raised herself to her tiptoes, creating a shivering sensation as the chill travelled the length of her spine. She sunk her fingers into his hair and angled his head to better reach his mouth, coincidentally bringing him closer to the spray. 

It proved easier than she had thought to manoeuvre him until his back was to the shower, although she got distracted on more than one occasion when he did that thing with his tongue. 

That thing which was so disarming that she had almost given up on her entire plan, when he took a single step backwards. 

‘Jesus fucking Christ.’

Molly had never heard Sherlock swear so effusively before, but as soon as the frigid water touched his skin his mouth became fouler than a dead body in a sewage tank. 

He had released Molly in his shock, and she stood at the other end of the shower, unable to contain her laughter in the face of his flattened hair and pouty mouth. 

‘Molly,’ he growled, his eyes dark and locked threateningly on hers. 

She decided that this was probably an opportune time to escape, as she yanked on the shower curtain and practically jumped over the side of the bath. 

Molly could just hear his muttered cursing as she ran to the bedroom, shutting but not locking the door. 

After all, the thrill of heat that travelled up her spine at the thought of him following her in here in his stormy mood was rather welcome after her cold shower.

**Author's Note:**

> Come and find me on Tumblr at aquafontem.


End file.
